


Decomp

by sistabro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Community: spn_las, Episode: s03e16 No Rest for the Wicked, Gore, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sistabro/pseuds/sistabro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five stages of decomposition, as experienced by Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decomp

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/spn_las/profile)[**spn_las**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/spn_las/) Round 2, Challenge 1: Time will tell. Unbeta'd and unedited so all mistakes are obviously my own, but the story itself is entirely [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/kalliel/profile)[**kalliel**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/kalliel/)'s fault.

**Stage 5: Dry Decay (Skeletal)**

Sam saw his first corpse when he was ten. He doesn't recall much about the body itself: the strong smell of wet earth faintly colored by the odor of jerky, the bits of bone sticking out of the brown leather scraps.

Mostly what he remembers from that night is the warm weight of Dad's hand on his shoulder as he sprinkled the salt. The proud punch in the arm from Dean when he tossed the burning matches into the grave like small apocalyptic meteors. How the heat from the fire couldn't even come close to the warmth inside his chest that came from feeling like maybe he actually did belong with his family after all.

 **Stage 4: Butyric Stage (Fermentation)**

Dead bodies smell like cheese sometimes.

The first time Sam ran across that particular phenomenon at the tender age of thirteen, it made him hungry.

In his defense, he hadn't known bodies could smell like food; it wasn't really something that came up in casual conversation, even among hunters. And digging graves was hungry work. Especially while in the middle of a growth spurt, when it had seemed like just breathing was enough to make him want to gnaw his arm off. Or a dead person's arm, apparently.

Sam had just assumed Dean had brought some cheese along as a quick snack. It wasn't that unreasonable. Lately, Dean had taken to always having some sort of food on hand to soothe the savage beast otherwise known as Sam's stomach.

So Sam had simply held out a hand in Dean's direction--too busy scanning the graveyard in case the ghost decided to show to actually verify that his brother had any food, a mistake he would pay for for years--and said, "Gimme some."

"Give you what?"

"The cheese, jerk." Sam had said, only then turning to look at Dean.

Dean had stared back at him, completely scandalized, with nothing in his hands but his shovel. "Oh, my god, Sam, gross. If you start calling me Clarice, I'm gonna put a bullet in your head."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Dude, the cheese smell, that's the body." Dean's smirk was epic. "Never pegged you for a cannibal, Sammy."

Sam maybe threw up a little bit then. He couldn't eat cheese for months.

 **Stage 3: Black Putrefaction (Advanced Decay)**

Sam hates Jewish salt and burns.

It's not that Sam has anything against Judaism, because he doesn't. Nor are Jewish ghosts any more or less fucked up than any other ghosts, because they aren't.

It's just, well, Sam really hates throwing up and the smell is fucking impossible to get out of his clothes in anything less than three washes.

Embalming just makes his job a lot less disgusting is all.

 **Stage 2: Putrefaction (Bloat)**

It's the flies, the ominous buzzing drone, that leads them to the corpses.

Neither of them had particularly high hopes of finding the first couple that went missing alive, but it's always a disappointment not to. The hot, humid conditions have done the bodies no favors. Their features are swollen almost past the point of recognition and their torsos bulge grotesquely, bellies green and putrid looking, so big they pushed the shirts back to the breastbone.

"Fuck," Dean mutters. He puts his wrist to his nose and moves in closer for a better look, to see if the bodies can give them any idea about what is tearing people apart in the woods.

Sam keeps his distance and starts riffling through the duffel on his shoulder for the GPS so he can jot down the coordinates to call this in once they are somewhere with cell reception. A wet tearing sound rips through the clearing, followed immediately by Dean's shout, splatters of something hitting the forest floor, and the worst smell imaginable. It's about all Sam can do not to puke all over himself, but he can hear Dean retching enthusiastically behind him.

When Sam finally manages to get his stomach under control, the first thing he sees are the bodies, one of which is sporting a massive slice through its now deflated stomach. Sam is pretty sure that there is a bit of half liquefied intestine dangling from one of the trees.

Dean is a few feet away, dry heaving. Judging by the shiny look to his hair, he probably got a face full of corpse when it ruptured. It would almost be funny in a horrifically disgusting and unsanitary way if Sam wasn't going to have to spend the next four hours hiking back to the car with his brother smelling like that.

 **Stage 1: Initial Decay (Fresh)**

Dean is dead. It is impossible not to see. Sam has been around too much death to ever be able to not see it, no matter how much he wishes he could.

Where it isn't covered by blood, Dean's skin is white, lusterless. He only moves because Sam can't stop rocking him, can't stop sobbing and shaking.

Dean is dead. Dean is dead. Dean is dead.

But Sam won't let him stay that way.  



End file.
